


Sick as a Dog

by Cowboysandcannolis



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Micah is super sick, You get the punishment of taking care of him, graphic description of vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 14:50:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowboysandcannolis/pseuds/Cowboysandcannolis
Summary: When Micah falls ill after you witness him killing a man in a bad way you think back to that funny thing Trelawny had once explained to you, karma. But perhaps the punishment is really yours...





	Sick as a Dog

**Author's Note:**

> This work is for a gender neutral reader, though I use a female pronoun in one spot. Feel free to ignore that and replace how you like!

Karma was a bitch, from what you understood of it. Trelawny had explained the concept to you one afternoon and you had to admit that it made sense. If you did awful things then you would be punished. Though in saying this you did things for the gang that you weren’t necessarily proud of and you would not be pleased if this came back onto you. 

And yet it seemed just that Micah got his payback, only a day or two after you witnessed him killing a man in a bad way in a bar fight he came up ill. Really really ill. At first you rolled your eyes and teased him a little bit, as you were sure he was being over dramatic. The first afternoon he felt a little warm to the touch and complains of chills and stomach pain. 

“Rest and drink some water.” With that you kissed his warm forehead and went on your way, leaving your husband pouting in your wake. 

When you returned from hunting you found a sight much worse than what you had left. Micah had not stayed in bed like you had ordered and he was currently sitting at the game table, cleaning his knife. You could see from a distance that he was sweating through his shirt and sniffling. His nose was red and his eyes appeared swollen. 

“Micah..” You gave him a hard glare, your hands resting on your hips.  
His cloudy, swollen eyes remained on his knife as he sniffled loudly in attempt to keep control of the river of mucus that wanted out of his nose. “Wut?” 

“What? You look like a mess. Let’s get you to bed, okay. Maybe if you actually get some sleep you’ll feel fine in the morning.” 

But oh, you were so wrong. So terribly wrong. In the early hours of the morning you awoke after being shoved. Your mind put two and two together just in time to recognize the sound of Micah vomiting behind your tent. Oh god...

You kept your sigh quiet as you hauled yourself to your feet, still drowsy. “Micah...” Your voice was gentle as you picked your way around the tent in the moonlight. 

You easily found his form hunched over in the dirt, an impressive puddle underneath him. You knelt beside him and began rubbing his damp back in big, slow circles. “You’re alright. You just caught a little sickness somewhere is-“ You said this just as he pitched forward, heaving up more.

Micah vomited at least once every half hour until morning, and by the time the sun rose he was trembling just a little and leaning against you. No one felt good being sick, not even the roughest and toughest of outlaws. You were only allowed to leave his side to get him water and even then he gave you such a miserable look you felt bad about leaving him. 

Before the camp was up and about you managed to haul his weak form back into your tent, he didn’t need his pride hurt on top of everything else. It didn’t take long before he was sweating through the blankets you had laid on your cot. But you remained comforting and calm. 

Well...You really did, until the first week was over. Then you were pretty sure this was karma punishing you for something. Micah had thrown up on you, accidentally, sweat on you, drooled on you and that was just the beginning. For a week straight. 

You had never liked Strauss and had completely ignored him for the years you had been with the gang. He was seedy, you couldn’t trust a man that couldn’t do his own work. And yet you were desperate. So so desperate. 

You approached him where he sat near the edge of camp, book in hand. A perfect way to catch a weasel...  
“Mr. Strauss.” 

The older man didn’t even look up from his book at you “Don’t even start. I won’t do it.” The German voice chirped and that made your blood boil

“Well, you see..” You approached him as you talked, your hands clenching into fists. “If you had said that a week ago I would have just walked away...But now...I haven’t slept in a week. I’ve been thrown up on more times than I care to remember and honestly I’m a little tired of playing nursemaid so...” 

You knocked the book out of his hand, pulling him up off the rock he was sitting on by the collar, his blue eyes looked at you with obvious fear. “Unless you want to be in bed for a week then I suggest you get me something to help him. NOW!” Your bounty hunter voice was enough to send Strauss scrambling towards his wagon.  
You smirked a little bit and followed, that was the first bit of entertainment you had gotten all Damn week. You didn’t normally enjoy bullying but another day of sick, pathetic Micah would drive you over the edge. 

The German man quickly went through his shelves before giving you a clear, palm sized bottle, some sort of tonic or another. “Well, thank you, Mr. Strauss. I’ll be back if this doesn’t work..”

With that you marched across camp and ducked into your tent. Micah was sleeping peacefully and the cot you usually shared, as you had been camped out on the ground since he fell ill. You carefully set your hand upon his forehead, he was as warm as ever. 

“Micah..” You nudged your husband a few times to stir him from his sleep. “What..” He slurred, his eyes didn’t even open to see you, he must have been feeling real bad. “I’ve got some medicine for you-“

“I ain’t taking it.” Micah rolled into his side away from you, trying to go back to sleep. You took whiny comments like this all week. But today you were done, he was taking this medicine if you had to pour it down his throat. 

“Micah..” Your voice was suddenly stern as you took a hold of his wrist. “You’re taking this medicine and you’re talking it now.”

“I ain’t-“

“NOW!” You snapped, preparing to have to wrestle him but to your surprise he rolled over to face you with a huff 

“You...terrible...woman.”

“Oh, is that so?” You made quick work of uncorking the bottle and bringing it to his lips. He swallowed the contents without anymore fuss. 

“Thank you. Now sleep.” You kissed his forehead, brushing through his dampened hair with your fingers. “You should feel better when you wake up.” 

And he actually did. By morning he was acting much more like himself. You convinced him to get cleaned a little in the Lake, so he didn’t smell quite so bad of sweat and vomit as you washed all the sheets and blankets from your tent. By mid afternoon he was even feeling well enough to be getting on Arthur’s case.  
Finally things were back to normal... 

That was until you came down with a fever and stomach pains that evening...Perhaps all that karma junk really did work.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was requested by Red. If you have any writing prompts for me please get in contact with me. I’m also on tumblr by the same username so feel free to say hello or chat! As always, take care, Cowpokes!


End file.
